


Papi

by TWDwalker5



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Sex, Smut, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-12
Updated: 2018-03-12
Packaged: 2019-03-30 08:56:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13948158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TWDwalker5/pseuds/TWDwalker5
Summary: This is Simon smut. Little plot, but not really. Apologies for any grammar errors!





	Papi

The Saviors laugh in unison, one of which even drops a supply box in the moment. Idiots. Bunch of idiots.

Mia runs a hand through her hair, trying not to get intimidated. There are plenty of female Saviours around. And equality is something that Negan thinks highly of in the Sanctuary.

But in moments like this, her temper slips. It’s what she inherited from her mother. God bless her soul.

Mia kisses the cross around her neck and gets back to work. Arat and Laura pick up a box each, sauntering over to the entrance of their kingdom. Mia takes a deep breath and bends down to pick up the one she dropped. Half of the vegetables scattered around the floor, some even got under one of the cars.

And the bastards are still laughing.

“Enough, okay?!” she snaps.

The men release a howl, turning it into a big ‘Ooooh’. She never liked some of the pricks working here. Especially that pendejo Dave. He clutches his stomach, gesturing to his own chest to make a remark about her breasts. Some of the men’s eyes drop down to Mia’s level. She blushes.

“Alright, give her a break!”

She turns to see Simon checking something off on his notepad. For a moment, she thinks that he might stick up for her, but then he says, “Get all the boxes inside before Mia manages to break some more.”

The men laugh again, turning Simon’s grin bigger and bigger.

“Vete a la chingada!” she yells in his direction. Once his smile drops, she knows that he understood what she said. He couldn’t have possibly understood. This is one of the perks of being a foreigner in the group. Swear as much as you like and they will think you’re giving them complements.

Simon passes his notepad to another man, starting to march towards Mia. She stands her ground, puffing out her chest to appear intimidating. It doesn’t work.

“You want to apologise?”

Mia opens her mouth, unsure yet whether to swear or try to calm him down. He cuts her off.

“I’m sorry. I meant: You want to apologise. Period.”

“What for?” she raises her brows.

He places both hands on his hips, unimpressed.

“For saying what you just said.”

“And what did I say?” Mia presses, watching the time bomb ticking away in his eyes. Just a few more nudges and he will explode.

“I know very fucking well what you just said. So, don’t push me, sweetheart. Apologise.”

“Or what?” she folds her arms, causing a muscle to twitch in the corner of his eye.

The sun comes out of the clouds, casting a light on the whole community. He squints, glancing down at his feet. Mia looks away.

“Last chance,” he warns.

“Oh, piss off, you Canadian fuck- HEY!”

She barely has the chance to register what is happening. Her world is flipped upside down when Simon throws her over his shoulder. She widens her eyes, watching the other men howling with laughter. How humiliating.

“What are you doing?!”

He jerks his shoulder, pushing the air out of her lungs. She gasps, noticing how the sun is suddenly gone. They are indoors.

One corridor. Turning left.

She tries hitting his back, but he ignores it. Frustratingly so, she feels muscles bulge underneath her. Ass.

Second corridor.

“Put me down! I’m telling Negan!”

“And he will be happy to know I am dealing with this problem myself, rather than getting him involved.”

“What are you-“

This part of the Sanctuary is oddly quiet. Maybe because it’s almost dinner time. Everyone has gone to get their food. Not Simon though. And it looks like she will be missing out on a meal as well.

She hears keys in a door and groans, “What, you’re gonna lock me in a room? Is that what you’re gonna do?!”

“You need to learn how to listen to superiors, sweetheart.”

She starts to throw Spanish curse words at him like a defence mechanism. He silently sets her down onto her feet.

“Control freak!”

He tosses his head back, laughing, “Me?”

She watches as he closes the door behind him, evidently locking them in a closet, “Pendejo.”

When he turns to face her, there is a crease between his brows. He does not look happy.

“You know, your accent is making it really hard not to punish you right now,” he emphasises the word, tilting backwards.

“Punish me? You bastard! Open the door right now-“

It happens in less than a split second. And when it does, it feels like he has been doing it for a while.

His lips push against hers, causing her to stumble back against an old desk. Mia’s lower back screams in pain and she moans into his mouth accidentally. She hears a groan at the back of his throat. No, this is not supposed to turn him on.

She wants to pull away and look at him, but by that point he has grabbed her face, keeping her exactly where he wants her.

She brings her hands to his chest, unsure whether to push him away or pull him closer. This is so unexpected and yet, predictable. He has been siding with those men for as long as she can remember, trying to put her down just for fun.

Mia gasps against his lips when he bites on her skin. Thinking about it now, maybe it wasn’t for fun. Maybe this was all a part of his plan. It got her to talk to him. It encouraged a reaction. And now here they are. In a closet. Making out.

Simon grabs her creased shirt, causing their bodies to collide. She gasps again, pulling back to look into his eyes. They have gone black. He trails his kisses down her neck, ignoring the material in the way. His moustache tickles her collarbone, making heat flush down to her core.

Her hands reach out to grab his belt. She has never felt so brazen before.

“Ten paciencia, Mami,” he breathes, catching her wrists.

“What?” She mumbles, too drunk with lust to process his words. Was that Spanish?

“Turn around for me, sweetheart,” she registers that.

Mia follows his orders, spinning around on her small feet. She puts her hands on the table in front of her. Simon makes her gasp for air when he pushes her forward, holding her down by the back of her neck.

“Jesus,” she moans, sensitive to the hand that is grazing up and down the back of her pants.

“I can tell you are soaking already,” he chuckles behind her. She pictures his warm smile.

Wait… if he speaks Spanish then…

Mia blushes slightly, knowing all too well why he reacted to her outburst like he did.

“How about we cut the bullshit and I fuck you right here? How does that sound, honey?”

Mia manages to mumble a reply in her home language. She is even more impressed when he replies.

“Te voy a dar lo que quieras.”

She feels her pants being tugged down to her knees and his belt buckle knocking together.

She grips the edge of the desk, knowing that with the temper this man has, what is coming is not going to be gentle.

He pushes into her without warning, releasing a string of curse words into her hair.

Mia moans with each rattle of the desk. It becomes more and more frequent by the second, banging against the nearest wall and scratching its paint.

“Simon, oh my God,” she bites into her fist, listening to his heavy breathing.

“Yeah, you like that, sweetheart?”

“Mmm, Papi,” the word slips out of her mouth, and she swears that she feels him stop moving for a moment.

He grabs a fistful of her hair, pulling back, “What was that?”

“¡Más duro, Papi!”

He groans loudly, mouth hovering beside her ear. His pounding is relentless as he growls.

Mia moans loudly, knowing that if his movements didn’t get her over the edge, his voice alone might.


End file.
